


fire and water

by minsfired



Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Mentions of Death, Spoilers, ibarra thinking thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26462578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minsfired/pseuds/minsfired
Summary: Elias had always been full of fire- a fiery passion unlike any other.Now, only ashes were what remained of that once burning flame.
Relationships: Elias & Crisostomo Ibarra, Elias/Crisostomo Ibarra
Kudos: 5





	fire and water

**Author's Note:**

> ok this is just an old wip i had lying around but i decided to leave it as it is because welP. enjoy!! :) thanks for reading!! :DD
> 
> also don't forget your roots. fight for the good of the PEOPLE and not only for those in power. REGISTER TO VOTE IF YOU'RE OF LEGAL AGE. and stay safe !! wash your hands AND WEAR A MASK.

The man had always been full of fire. He was always burning, that fact was something Ibarra knew without a doubt.

Elias burnt with a passion unlike anything the _ilustrado_ had seen in his life of expansive travels. Elias fights for his flame, swaying only to survive the wind, yet never burning out, never surrendering to the forces seeking to extinguish him.

He had a flaming heart, a passion-driven urge to help those in need even with nothing in return.

It was in that flame that Ibarra realized he was a mere moth to that light, a lowly being attracted to a higher force to be reckoned—something one can never have but can’t help but admire in all the days that they can.

 _It seems fitting_ , Ibarra thinks, as he observes the ashes that remained flitting downwards as if it was snowfall. _Like_ _a burning snowfall_ , he laughs drily to himself.

The ashes were but what remained of that once burning flame.

The corpse of fire he had lit with the young Basilio had long died down before he dared move from his spot across the small clearing, his hand still clasped on the shoulder of the similarly motionless boy—motionless in the face of tremendous emotional stress, connected by their bouts of suffering in the hands of the same race of oppressors.

It was selfish of him, in a way, to burn from this world its once brightest flame. It was selfish of him to make sure that no one could trace who died that day from that bullet wound. It was selfish, and he hated himself so, so much for it.

The world would never remember the star-like flame that once roamed its’ surface, selflessness, and passion ablaze in all the hidden acts of courage he had accomplished in his vanished life.

* * *

His final hours are coming. He could see it in the eyes of the priest who was the only one remaining by his side. He asks for his body to be tossed into the waves. The priest shakes his head but sighs with resignation. It was rude to deny a dying man’s wish.

Once again, Ibarra thinks, _how fitting_. It was poetic justice, in a way, of some sort. He still thinks of Elias, the fire searing into his mind memories of regret and guilt. They were polar opposites, in more ways than one. Both lives ending in fire and water, their existence extinguished and left to drown in the depths of time.


End file.
